Hurtful Roses
by Serial reader of the void
Summary: Dave just passed a long and difficult phase of his life and so has John. As they meet, secrets are unfolded, made and shared. Feelings develop and friendships form. Rating may go up. Or not.


**Hi! Two stories on one day, guess I'm on a roll. I made this story for an AU I read somewhere, but I couldn't find it again. If someone does find it please tell me through review, thanks. I'd really like to read more from the original creator of this AU. You'll learn more in future chapters about this AU if it isn't already clear here. Anyway, I do not own Homestuck or this AU in any shape, way or form. This is written only for the purpose of entertainment of people. Have fun reading! This story in unBeta'd.**

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Chapter 1 "The scare of your life"

It was just past midnight when mr. Egbert-Crocker woke up. A rather unusual time and it did not fit within his normal routine. As he slowly became more aware, he realised the reason for the sudden interruption of his sleep. His daughter was banging on the door of his bedroom with frantic calls for him and he heard the fear in her voice. He instantly sprung out of his bed and was by his door in a flash. When he opened his door his daughter fell forward and he caught her before she crashed into him.

He was hit by a feeling of relief as there was nothing wrong with her. But when she looked up her normally happy blue eyes were full of tears and fear. She was crying and he wanted nothing more than to know what was wrong so that he could fix it. But before he could ask she was suddenly pulling him along through the house. He then noticed the first aid kit she had with her and he was immediately concerned.

Hundreds of questions and scenarios filled his head. Why was she crying? Where was her brother? Was someone hurt? What happened? WHERE WAS HER BROTHER?

She confirmed his fear that something was wrong when she approached John's room. Even with the door closed he could smell the scent of blood from inside the room. A wave of nausea hit him and he immediately picked up his pace. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

When they got there he immediately slammed open the door and the horrible scent of blood became even more apparent. What he saw was something he had hoped he would never see.

The sight was bloody. Blood was splattered on the wall, but not too much as it obviously got there thanks to hands (and the handprints were so tiny, oh my god, nonononono) and there was blood on the bed, an obvious dark stain on the normally calm blue sheets. The bed was messy and you could see that someone had been panicking. On the floor next to the bed laid a puddle of blood.

But that wasn't all, no far from it. There sitting on the floor in the middle of the puddle (Oh dear lord, why is there so much blood!) with his back against his bed frame, was John. Mr. Egbert-Crocker's heart broke when he saw the state his dear son was in. John was curled up, holding his knees close to his chest. His normally messy hair was even messier and caked with dry blood, his fingers were also stained red, along with his toes that were in the puddle. His baby blue pyjama pants were also stained red like his sheets. His normally cheerful blue eyes were filled with pain and tears. His cheeks were wet with tears and smears of blood.

It was a horrible sight, the prime example of a crime scene and John was the victim. Except for one detail. It was an obvious detail and extremely weird, because there on John's wrist were several large cuts and growing out of them were beautifully coloured flowers. They warped around his wrists, flowing around them and holding the boy tightly, hurting him as their thorns made even more cuts, digging into his skin.

Mr. Egbert-Crocker stood there in silent shock for a moment before he rushed forward, only to hold back when John flinched and curled into himself. Mr. Egbert-Crocker glanced at his daughter and an understanding passed between them. They both realised that everything would change after tonight. They both knew but didn't care because John was their family. Their son and brother. So they rushed forward and hovered around John, comforting him while trying to take care of him. John was obviously afraid and very upset.

Mr. Egbert-Crocker managed to calm him down and he scooped his little boy into his arms. His small nine year old body was light and it took no effort for Mr. Egbert-Crocker to carry him with his superior strength.

He carried his son to the bathroom to clean him up further, all the while murmuring soothing word into his sons ear as he did so.

He knew what he had to do. And he knew that things from now on would be difficult for John. He knew and he also knew why it happened. Or at least how. And he was also furious. After all, in this world, things like flower growing out of wound obviously was the sign of-

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Jane was panicking. Her heart was racing and blood was rushing to her face, making her feel warm in the face and light headed. She was sweating buckets and her pajamas were sticking to her due to her sweat and John blood. ( _oh my god, so much blood, why?-_ )

She had woken up in the middle of the night for whatever reason. Seeing as she couldn't fall back asleep she decided that she best go get a glass of water as obviously it was her thirst that had awoken her up.

She had gotten up from her bed, flailing her arms in the air when she got stuck in her bedsheets and finally fell out of her bed. As she had tried to navigate in the dark she couldn't shake off a nagging feeling. Something in her twelve year old mind was telling her that something was wrong and that she had to check up on her family ( _and thank god she did_ ).

She had gone to John's room first and as she approached it she started to hear something. ( _not something, but someone-_ ) The ominous feeling grew through the roof and she threw herself at John's door. From even closer she could hear the soft sound and understood that what she was hearing was sobbing and someone trying to muffle their cries.

She had thrown open the door and the sight that had greeted her would never leave her mind. John was sitting there, blood all around him and sobbing his eyes out. His glasses were on the floor next to him but they were in a puddle of blood. She had let out a strangled scream that made John snap his head up as he looked at her with frightened eyes.

She immediately tried to calm herself down and rushed forward taking his face into her hands and looking him into his eyes as she tried to comfort him. She ignored the blood that got on her hands and put her forehead on his as he continued to sob in almost silence. As he began to calm down he grabbed her own face. ( _and oh god, all the blood_ ) She then let him go and grabbed his hands to look at his wrists as obviously that's where the blood came from.

What she saw made her freeze up and she almost couldn't believe her eyes. There on the places where the cuts were, flowers were growing. Beautiful blue and red roses were growing out of the cuts, digging their thorns into his skin. On any other day she would have appreciated their beauty but at that moment she couldn't help but feel anger and fear at what they meant.

She let John's arms go and shushed him. "I'm going to get the first aid kid and Dad, alright little brother? Just sit here and wait, I'll be right back." ,She told him before standing up and running out of his room down stairs to the kitchen. There she got the box before she ran upstairs again, this time towards their fathers room.

When she stood in front of his door she started banging on it and called for her father, panicked, scared out of her mind and in need of her father so that he could help her brother.

When he he finally emerged from his room, she was flooded with relief before the reason for her panic suddenly entered her mind again. She grabbed his wrist, ignoring the scars she felt there, and tugged him into the direction of John's room.

As they approached it she noticed that the door was closed and even more panic and fear entered her mind. She couldn't remember closing the door to John's room when she ran out so that must have meant that he himself had closed it. When her father rushed forward and opened the door her fear was confirmed as she saw the blood trail from the door to the spot where John was sitting.

She watched as her father took in the scene and as the understanding passed between them. The then rushed forward and took care of John, trying to calm him down while trying to keep calm themselves. Trying not to become angry and not to be too scared. Their first priority right now was to take care of John.

And when her father carried John out of his room to the bathroom with the first aid kit, she stayed behind. She went John's bed and took his bedsheet before tossing it on the floor. The sheet was stained anyway and she could use it to wipe away most of the blood before she had to get a towel. She tried not to think of the blood too much (it was too _much, to much, too much_ ) as she cleaned it.

She also tried not to think too much of as to why this happened. Because she knew that if she did her anger would come back. After all, in this world flowers only appeared on someone when their-

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Jon couldn't understand. His head hurt. His arms and wrists hurt. His heart hurt.

He had woken up in the middle of the night because of horrible pain in his wrists. He had then felt something wet on his sheets and on his hands. And when he finally opened his eyes he immediately wished he hadn't. Because on his wrists deep cuts had appeared, more on one wrist then on the other as they were still appearing on the other one.

And you know, okey he was fine with that. He was pretty fine with the fact that deep cuts had appeared in the middle of the night while he was asleep. He could even accept that they were still appearing out of thin air on his other wrist. What he couldn't accept however was the fact that roses were growing out of them. And they were making the process even more painful.

He had immediately panicked and had fallen out of his bed, but he only hurt himself more in the process. More blood came from his wound and more wound were made due to the thorns the roses brought with them. Blood, blood, blood, there was so much blood.

He suddenly realised that he was sobbing but didn't try to stop. It hurt so much just make it it stop. He was scared out of his mind and the pain only grew as time went on. He watched with wide eyes as the flowers grew and warped themselves around his wrists and went up his lower arms.

Suddenly he heard a loud sound before it was cut off and John looked up to see his older sister standing in the doorway. She had covered her mouth and fear was evident in her pretty blue eyes as she stood there. John didn't want her to be there. He didn't want to see her be scared and he didn't want to scare her.

And then she walked into his room and knelt down in front of him, taking his face into her hands as he did so before pulling him closer to him and putting her forehead on his. And when she did so John almost sighed in relief, as suddenly he didn't feel as scared anymore and his headache faded slightly. He felt safer as she held him, scaring away the dark and comforting him. He also grabbed her face, feeling even more comfort and providing himself with the proof that, yes she was here and yes she was real

But then she grabbed his arms and looked at them and when he saw the look in her eyes he wanted nothing more than to hide. He didn't like the fear or anger in her eyes, it didn't suit her.

And then she looked him in the eyes and whispered softly. She told him that she would get the first aid kit and their dad and that everything would be alright and that he just had to wait and sit there until she came back. She then left and suddenly he didn't feel safe anymore. He didn't want for anyone to see him like this and he stood up and closed his door, ignoring how his pant and feet left a trail of blood before he returned to his place next to his bed and he satin the puddle that had formed made of blood (his blood) that still trailed down his wrists and arms. He sat there in a puddle of his blood and sobbed.

He sat there, afraid and on his own but not too long later his door suddenly slammed open and his dad stood there with his sister. He watched as they froze and watched as they suddenly entered the room and tried to comfort him.

He continued to sob even as he felt safe in the arms of his father as he carried him to the bathroom to clean up and as they left his sister behind in his room to clean up. He continued to sob because he still felt the pain in wrists, in his arms and in his head.

He still continued to sob because he knew, he knew what this all meant. He had forgotten it in his panic and fear, too busy trying to make sense of it all and trying ignore the pain. Because he knew that the only way for cuts and flowers to appear on his body, was if his other half did this to himself. It only happened in this world if your _soulmate_ hurt himself/herself. And this fact made him sob even more, even as his father murmured reassurances to him. Because apparently he was hurt so much because of his _soulmate._

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